After the Hunt
by Feste the Fool
Summary: The reign was ended, the great kings and queens sent away, their task complete. But when the Pevensies left Narnia the first time, they dropped off the face of the earth with no sign or warning. What happened after the hunt? Previously "The Sentries."
1. The Defiance of the Horses

**Disclaimer: As always, not mine. **

**By popular demand, the "Sentries" stories. I am bound and determined to have this arc done by the end of March. This is chapter one of six. Take heart! I have not forgotten you. :) Also, I am completely at a loss as to what genre this is. Tragedy? Friendship? Horror? Drama? Ideas? The only real happy chapter will be the last one...  


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**"Fair Consorts, let us now alight from our horses and follow this beast into the thicket," Peter said happily, glaring off into the woods where the stag had disappeared. "For in all my days I never hunted nobler quarry."

"Since when do you hunt at all, dear Brother, save the trolls of the north?" Edmund asked. His adoption of the courtly tongue had not slackened his sarcasm over the years.

"Nonsense, dearest Edmund," Lucy cried with a laugh. "Just last winter, our noble High King led a very successful hunt."

"I remember no such notable event as our Peter leaving the castle to do anything but practice his sword play," Susan said half-seriously, eyes crinkling in mirth. "What did he catch?"

"The largest head cold I have seen in years!" Lucy finished.

The Horses and Edmund burst out laughing. The High King's ears turned red, but he held his head high as he dismounted. The others followed him. Their merciless teasing was as good as saying "even so let us do," and they all knew it. They disappeared into the thickest part of wood and there was nothing their mounts could do now but wait.

And wait.

And wait.

After an hour had gone by, they began shifting uneasily from hoof to hoof. "They should not have been gone this long," said Peter's mare.

"Now, Rosalind," Philip countered, barely able to keep the worry from his own voice. "Hunts usually take a lot of time.

"Yes, but not _this much_."

"If it did, they would have come back and told us so," Alkippe added with an indignant toss of her head. "_I know Queen Lucy_ and she'd come back and tell me."

"The yearling is right, Philip," Marshall said. It was clear Susan's often joked about "only one true beau" was just as worried for his friend and monarch as the others were for theirs. "Much as I hate to admit it."

"Don't worry," Alkippe said bitterly. "I won't let it go to my head. And I'm _not_ a yearling, thank you very much."

"This isn't getting us anywhere," Philip butted in, swatting them both with his tail. _I'm going to have to keep an eye on them,_ he thought. Both were unused to really working with their Majesties and both were bitter rivals besides, what with Marshall's demand for respect and Alkippe's distinctly third generation attitude and hatred of authority. "Now, I agree that they would have told us if they were going to be gone longer than a few minutes. That doesn't mean there's danger."

"Yes, perhaps they just lost track of time," Marshall said.

Another fifteen minutes passed. "I have a very bad feeling about this," Rosalind said, sounding as close to tears as a horse can get, talking or no.

"They_ should have been back_ by now," Alkippe insisted.

"We should go after them." Marshall this time, and Alkippe _nodded,_ ears back, eyes wide.

"We were told to stay here," Rosalind murmured half-heartedly.

"Something's not right, though, Ros. Wouldn't Peter have sent some kind of message back to us? Susan wouldn't leave without word like that."

"Marshall, that's enough. No one can think with you stirring up panic."

"We're not panicking, Philip. We _need_ to go after them."

"Something's not right," Philip said suddenly, head shooting back and nostrils flaring. "Something isn't right with the wind."

The others stopped as the elder horse danced about. "I don't feel or smell anything," Rosalind said.

"I've smelled it before," Philip told her. "It's not a _bad _smell."

"LION!" Marshall screamed, rearing and flailing his hooves in the air at the sight of wild golden fur darting through the trees.

The other three went on guard, backing up and tensing, preparing for battle. The golden mass moved slowly closer, then chuckled and moved into the clearing. "Be still, my children," the lion said with a voice like sweet dew in the morning. "I am not here to harm you."

"A-aslan?" Philip asked, taking a hesitant step toward the great Lion.

"Yes, dear Horse," He answered.

"Aslan? Truly?" Alkippe whispered, looking more cowed than she ever had in her entire life.

"Oh, Aslan, thank goodness you're here!" Rosalind said. Peter had made her _his_ Horse due to her good sense, after all, so naturally she was the one to get straight to business. "Their Majesties have gone into the thicket and they've been _so very_ long and we don't know what to do. Can you help us, please?"

Aslan smiled sadly at her. "I cannot help you, dear one, for I have come bearing news to you. They are gone."

Marshall broke out into a cold sweat and Philip froze. "Gone?" he said, feeling as if his breath had been stolen. "What do you mean, gone?"

"They have left this realm. They have returned to their own worlds, where they were meant to spend their lives in the first place."

"Spare Oom?" Marshall asked, still shivering violently for fear of his Queen. "I thought that was a myth."

"No myth, but great truth," Aslan said. "You will not see them again. It would be best if you turned back to the castle. The others have already been told."

"But…" Rosalind was heartbroken.

"They can't be gone," Alkippe moaned. "They were just with us an hour ago. We _have _to see them again. They've only gone after the stag, Aslan, _please—_" Her voice broke into an open sob and she ducked her head, ashamed.

"Be strong, dear ones. I promise you shall see them again, one day, in My Country. Until then, you must be patient, and be strong."

"We didn't even get to say goodbye," Philip whispered brokenly, staring into the woods.

"Go home," the Lion insisted, nuzzling their shoulders with his enormous head. "Be watchful."

"I'm…staying…_here,_" a small voice said into the silence.

The other horses froze and stared. _Rosalind?_ Sweet, gentle _Rosalind, _show any sign of contrariness whatsoever? "I was told…to stay _here,_" she continued firmly, not meeting Aslan's eyes. "It wasn't spoken, it was an understood order. It counts. I was told to remain _here_ until High King Peter comes out of the woods. And until he does—" She laid down in the grass, head tall and proud, to prove her point. "—_here_ is right where I shall stay."

"Then I'm afraid, my child, you will be waiting for a very long time," Aslan said gently. "An eternity."

"Then I shall wait an eternity."

There was a soft, almost imperceptible rustling sound and the others turned to find Alkippe laying in the grass as well. "You will not wait alone," she said firmly. "They'll return, someday, and we shall be here when they do."

Marshall and Philip moved almost as one, lying down beside each other and in between the mares. Peter's Horse, then Susan's , Edmund's, and Lucy's, arranging themselves as unconsciously as their riders always had. They did not say a word, but the obstinacy was clearly written in their eyes.

Aslan chuckled again and shook His head. "You four ought to have been born mules. Is this how you really feel?"

"Yes," Alkippe answered for all of them, and Rosalind raised her eyes to the Lion's.

"Then you shall wait in peace." He blew his warm breath on them and left.

And some say that, because of that breath, as each passed in life, their bodies passed into the hands of stone and ice. Some say they can still be found, waiting at the edge of the wood for four Monarchs who would not return for thirteen hundred years and never find them anyway. They will awaken from their silent vigils when those Monarchs once again lay their hands on stone bridles and call their names into the Hunt.


	2. The Mourning of the Trees

**Forgot to mention this last chapter—direct book quotes are underlined. Any other emphasis is mine. Also, I don't like this chapter as well as the last. The next one will be much better, promise.**

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The Dryads snickered at the monarchs' gentle banter and shivered within their branches. Several leapt from their trees with great joy, taking off through the thicket after the kings and queens, traveling on breezes and the horses' steady breathing. All the trees leaned forward to watch, for nothing brought them more happiness than to see their beloved monarchs at peace.

Lucy brightened at once and smiled at the dryads as they passed by and whirled around the majestic set. They waved back courteously, which was about the time the others began to notice them as well. Glad to be traveling with friends, they sped through the thicket.

The Dryads knew these woods as well as they knew each other and came and went as they pleased, save to one peculiar spot where the trees, though growing, bore no life and could not speak. And it was to this spot the humans were pressing when they heard Susan say "Fair friends, this is a great marvel, for I seem to see a tree of iron." She said it as much a question to the Dryads as a confirmation from her siblings.

"Are you quite certain it is, in fact, a tree?" Edmund asked dubiously, reaching forward to touch it before jerking back. It was probably most cold. "If you look well upon it you shall see it is a _pillar_ of iron with a lantern set on the top thereof," the Just King went on to explain, looking the peculiar thing up and down.

Indeed, long had the Dryads of Lantern Waste done much the same thing—no one knew where the iron pillar had come from. Only that it had been there since the oldest one's earliest memory. The monarchs stayed by the pillar to discuss and muse over its origin and purpose. The Dryads grew bored and began to flit back to their trunks. Two of them lagged behind, half listening to the royal conversation and half simply enjoying the day.

It was then that the most peculiar thing happened. The presence, the very feel of the kings and queens in the wood suddenly and most abruptly vanished. The two straggling Dryads froze in their flights and looked at each other in concern.

"I am experiencing the most…unusual feeling," said the first, glancing back into the thicket where they had left Their Majesties.

"As if our noble monarchs were suddenly afar off?" asked the second. The first nodded. "I feel it too. Could it be they have left the woods so quickly?"

The first shook her head. "We would have felt them leave. They are too full of life to have gone entirely without our noticing."

The trees shivered, and the two knew the other Dryads had felt the change as well. "Could something have happened?" asked the second. "We should go back and see."

"If they get much closer to the Lantern-Tree," the first warned, "we will be unable to follow. Perhaps we should wait."

"No, sister," the second answered. "I fear that something terrible has happened. We must go back."

The first frowned, the petals that formed her hair lifting and twirling as if reflecting their owner's indecision. "Perhaps we should call for help."

"_You_ call, then. I'm going back." The second Dryad whirled about and raced on the wind to the thicket of unliving trees.

The first seemed to bite her lip before raising a cry among the trees. "Come, sisters! Find our Kings! Call our Queens!" A small explosion of petals and leaves followed this pronouncement as the Dryads of Lantern Waste stirred themselves and raced to the first Dryad's side.

"They're gone!" came a shout as the final Dryads arrived, having already searched the remaining forest. "Vanished, as sure as the breeze on a still day!"

It was then they heard the second Dryad cry out in astonishment.

It took only a few moments to arrive _near_ the Lantern-Tree, but far longer for the large group to edge close enough to _see _it. The second Dryad was as close as she could possibly come, staring into the thicket in utter disbelief, for sitting on His haunches by the Lantern-Tree was the Lion himself.

"Aslan," whispered the Trees in awe and fear.

"Hello, my Daughters," he said, his deep voice washing over them. "You have come seeking your Monarchs, have you not? You will not find them in these woods."

"But how could they have fled without our notice!" asked one brave Dryad, her oak-leaf hands shooting up to her mouth as quickly as the words came.

"They have left Narnia, dear ones," He explained further, "for they had another task to fulfill. They have returned to their own world and they shan't be returning for a very long time."

He paused, and the next long minutes were filled with the shrill sobs of a forest in mourning. The first Dryad maneuvered her way to her sister's side, meeting Aslan's eyes with a mixture of grief and shock. "They're really gone for good, Aslan?"

"Yes, Daughter. Fear not, for they are in good hands." He twitched his tail and all fell moderately quiet once more. "You shall see them again, in My Country. For now, I have a favor to ask of you."

"Ask in an instant," the second Dryad said, and many others shouted their agreement.

The Lion smiled, a tender smile full of love. "I must bid you to be My messengers. Bear the news to all corners of Narnia, and beyond if you are able. Tell My people their Kings and Queens have departed, yet all can still be well in the world. I watch over them, always."

"Yes, Aslan," they murmured, visibly containing their heartache for a better time.

A small silence. Then—"Well, my Daughters? Go! Fly!" He roared once, filling them with hope and resolve before turning about and springing into the thicket.

The Dryads sped back to their trees before dividing into different directions. The fastest of them all went to the other forests and began a country-wide knell as every tree sang their mourning-song for the loss of the greatest Kings and Queens Narnia had ever known.

The Messengers did not sing. There was work to be done.

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**Thanks Eavis, Flapjack, and Lucy for the reviews! Hope you enjoyed rereading the last chapter, and I'm very sorry that my rearranging confused you, Flapjack. If it makes you feel any better, it confused me, too.**


	3. The Panic of Cair Paravel

**Pronunciation, because this chapter has some odd names: Impera is im-pear-uh, Hetheon is het-hay-on, and Kelfiast is kell-fee-ast.**

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The very air was lush and golden in the thick of the Narnian Autumn about Cair Paravel. The sea practically glowed in the swirling mist, and the waves brushed gently against the stone cliffs rather than their usual crashing on the crags. All was quiet, save the gentlest of breezes and the murmur of sleepy conversation. And in the castle, a certain well-known faun was dozing in the council chambers.

"Here now, Tumnussssss," Impera said, slithering his way in. His voice echoed in the empty room, startling the faun into awakening. "I know counccccccil meetingssss can be dull, but generally people wait until they _begin_ to start nodding off."

"Sorry," Mr. Tumnus said, giving the python a sheepish grin and rubbing his horns absently. "There's a sort of laze in the air today."

"It isssss mossst pleasssant," he agreed, flicking his tongue out to taste it once more. "The Animalssssss working in the far fieldssss have sssstruck up a dancccce and the palacccce sssservants are sssleeping in the usual nooksss. I do believe ssssome other faunssss are going ssssswimming with a few sssssoldierssss, later, should you wish to join them."

"I just might at that. Their majesties will be most pleased to find the castle in such good spirits when they return." He sat up straighter in his chair and gestured for the snake to sit across from him. Impera nodded graciously, coiling on the floor and raising his great head to rest on the table.

The heady sound of hooves clomping along the flagstones floated into the room. "That will be Orieusssss, naturally," Impera said, watching the door. "Sssssince Hetheon isssss away."

The general himself entered a moment later. "Ah," he said, tail swishing at the scene in front of him. "I'm early, I see."

"Indeed," Mr. Tumnus said, standing to shake his hand. "And it is good to see you, my friend. It has been too long."

"Yes, and how did your trip to Calormen go?"

"The twins were overjoyed to hear news of Narnia," he answered. "I believe they're going to be excellent rulers, and Calormen will be much, much better under their reign."

Orieus nodded and took his place next to Impera. "Hello, 'Poet," he said in greeting as Mr. Tumnus sat down again.

"Hello, Ssssoldier," the snake answered, a little stiff. Despite being on the same council, he did not know Orieus well. "We shall be with a limited counccccil today, I fear."

"Only natural," the centaur said with a shrug. "On a day this agreeable. Will Ytun be joining us?"

"I think ssssso….ah." The question answered itself as the dwarf ambled into the room at that moment. "Many Meetingsssss, Ytun."

"All the more." Ytun, usually gruff and quiet, was clearly just as affected by the wonderful day as everyone else—he actually smiled as he took the seat next to Mr. Tumnus. "Tumnus, General. Walk in the prints of the Lion."

"And to you—" Mr. Tumnus began, only to be cut off by a thundering set of footsteps and a wild, raucous laughter down the hall. A rosy-cheeked, very fair-haired, not-quite-Daughter-of-Eve burst through the doors and grinned like a girl gone mad at her fellow council members.

"Oh," she said, panting for breath and still giggling. "I was hoping I could beat Impera here this time."

"No ssssuch luck, Kelfiasssst."

"By the _Lion_, woman, what _were_ you running from?" Ytun asked, very much alarmed by all the noise. He was unfamiliar with the former Terebinthian and her peculiar habits.

"My shadow!" She sent her musical laughter bouncing around the stone walls.

Primplefeather flew in from the window without a word and settled at the head of the table, a frown on her trim beak, ruffling her blue, black, and white feathers uncomfortably. She nodded to her fellows and preened her primaries, slightly out of place from her flight.

"Why, Prim," said Kelfiast. "Whatever could be the matter? You don't seem to be your usual self."

The large jay was silent was several long moments before giving a little shudder. When she did speak, it was slowly, hesitantly. "Something's…not right. Something isn't right with the wind."

"I was just outside, and it felt fine to me," Orieus said, his standard solemn frown deepening.

"No offense, General, but you're not a bird." She danced on the tabletop to calm her nerves. "Still, I suppose it could just be my imagination—"

All at once a horrendous scream rose up from Owl Wood, flooding the council chambers through the open window. Kelfiast shrieked in surprise and horror at the sound, her face paling and her hands flying to her ears. Mr. Tumnus rose, his usually cheerful face drawn in alarm. Orieus' hand jumped to the hilt of his sword, while Ytun had already drawn his blade. Primplefeather immediately took to the air again, shooting to the ceiling before Ytun had even touched his dagger. Impera coiled tightly, head tucked inside his rolls of scale, ready to spring in an instant. The scream went on for what seemed to be hours, and was followed by a hideous wailing that never ended.

And it was at that moment the final member of the tiny council, a dryad named Posy, burst into the chambers, her eyes wide with dread.

"Possssy," Impera said—being the only 'Poet in the bunch, he was the first to react to anything. "What hasss happened? What—"

"Gone," the dryad said in a whisper that was more like a whimper. "Gone, gone, gone!" With each word her voice rose to new decibels of panic until she, too, was shrieking her grief at the top of her lungs. "Gone are the Great Monarchs of the world! Gone, gone forever! Woe, Narnia, sing despair! The Kings and Queens are gone, and we are alone in a dark, cruel world!" Tears of dew drenched her flowery cheeks as she spoke, and her face twisted in anguish. "I go; my Sisters call me. Woe, Narnia, sing despair!"

"Wait!" the Python called; but it was too late. Posy became as wind in the flowers and blew out the window to join the near hurricane of petals forming outside of Cair Paravel. Wild shouts of cries of dismay and confusion were already rising from the halls.

"Gone?" Kelfiast shouted, voice shaking. "What did she mean _gone?_"

"_Aslan's Mane," _Prim breathed, "_please don't say—"_

"Prim," Mr. Tumnus said, his own voice strained and cracking. "Fly to the tower. Ring the alarum bells. Ytun, Orieus, to the training grounds. Your armies will probably be there already—" The three rushed to follow his orders. "Impera—"

But the snake was already out the door. "Gather the 'Poetssss and form a sssearch party. I know," he yelled from down the way.

Mr. Tumnus nodded once. "Kelfiast. Run. Run as fast as you can. Run to the dryads; I know you can catch up with them. Find one a little more coherent and bring her here."

The girl, shaking and lily-white, nodded and sprang for the door as the bells began to peal. Alone once more, the faun took a deep, steadying breath, closing his eyes. A smell reached his nostrils, marvelous and rich. Ice, cinnamon, blood, the sea at spring, green things growing, a new-forged sword still burning-hot. His eyes snapped open.

Aslan.

He whirled around and opened his mouth to speak, but the Lion beat him to the words. "Do not fear for your monarchs, Worthy Tumnus."

Mr. Tumnus drew a shuddering breath. "Aslan," he whispered, allowing only the Lion to know how shaken he was by the wild message. "What has happened?"

"They have returned home." Aslan cocked his big, golden head at the faun, smiling just slightly, as if in curiosity. "Surely you knew they could not stay here forever?"

"Spare Oom?" He gulped. "But…it's so far away…"

"As far as the stars."

"How shall they rule?"

"They shan't."

"What will happen to Narnia?" Mr. Tumnus whispered, broken, breathing fast and hard. "Great Jadis' Shade, we are lost."

"Nay, not lost. Never lost, not while I am with you," Aslan corrected gently. He walked over and pressed his head into the faun's stomach. Mr. Tumnus, moving automatically, began to run his hands through His great Mane. Calmed by the motion, the faun slowed his breathing and leaned on the Lion for support. "Narnia shall not fall."

"What will become of us, Aslan?" He sounded more steady, although heartbroken, and tears had started to form in his eyes. "Who will rule?"

"The Council will. I shall stay for a little while yet, while you are adapting."

"Adapting…"

"Fear not, dear Tumnus. You shall see them again, someday, long from now. All will be well." He stepped back and peered out the window, his tail twitching. "I must leave you—Cair Paravel is not to only place I am needed. Do not lose heart."

"I…" Mr. Tumnus swallowed. "I'll try."

The Lion smiled. "That is all I ask." He nodded once before turning and walking out the door. It was only then that Mr. Tumnus sank into his chair, put his head in his arms on the table, and wept.

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**Thank you Singer Sira (welcome, too, by the way; I don't recognize your name), Lucy of Narnia, and Bartholo for your reviews.**

**Well, I didn't make March, did I? **

**My deepest apologies for my extended absence. This time I truly never meant to leave, I promise you. **

**First of all, I am a senior in High School, and I graduate in May. In February, when last I updated anything, I was rudely reminded that I will be leaving soon by a stack of scholarship and college applications. For reasons not understood and definitely disliked, I...am not taking all this well. I don't know why—whether because I don't easily take to change or because I never wanted to grow up to begin with—but I have lived in nearly paralyzing fear of graduating since about this time last year. I don't mean a slight worry; I mean I, in all probability, should have looked into some counseling. It's been very secret—you all will be the first ones I've ever really told, because what can anyone do? I know it's not normal and possibly dangerous, but they can't do anything about it. It's still got to happen. In two weeks, in fact, so it's a bit late to be doing anything. So I've been meandering between slight depression and permanent terror for the last two months and haven't written a single word.**

**Second thing is kind of medical, but not really. I've been having very, very mild (as in, only noticeable once every other month) heart problems for five years now, but in the end of February and beginning of March it got much, much worse. After testing, however, the doctor couldn't really find anything wrong or unusual, and it went away—it was during Music Contest season, and the height of the Application Storm, so I believe it's brought on by overstress. It does kind of twinge when I think about graduating...**

**In short, I am a horrible person for leaving you guys hanging, and I am very sorry. I'm trying to ease myself back into writing now that I've settled down to just a sort of numb anxiety, and I will try to catch up on everything, but it will take time. Apparently I have to get my first job this summer, too... I'd greatly appreciate it if you kept me in your thoughts and prayers. And, now that I've info-dumped a horrible explanation to my absence up...I hope this chapter lived up to everyone's expectations? **

**Thank you all, **

**Feste 3**


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